I remember you,
I'd watch you when I was little with adoration
because you were older and you had chocolate brown eyes.
You had bushy side burns,
and a love for Hank Williams,
while I was still a fan of the babysitter's club
and listened to Daddy's motown.
You were pretty to me then,
behind my rose-colored glasses.
If I knew what love was then,
I probably loved you.
But I was too busy playing hide and seek
with all my imaginary friends
to realize my innocence was fading.
You were sweet,
like the melting icing on my
11-year-old birthday cupcakes.
I watch you still,
although the adoration has faded,
between my Dr. Seuss dreams
and the real world,
I forgot why it is you amused me so.
But you are still pretty,
even without the bushy sideburns.
If I knew what love was,
then I could probably love you.
But-my crayola infatuation will die,
how was I supposed to know
between my scabby knees and your stubbly face,
that we were both so incomplete?
It's only now, without the rose colored shades,
that I realize I was just a child-
preying on something I could never have.
Your eyes smile at me,
but they don't let me in, at least not into your heart.
I still don't color in the lines,
and I live for my fairytale dreams,
but I don't wonder anymore if you'll ever see me.
I'll just wait for my next victim,
as I put on my rose-colored glasses.